Real
by the sillylittlepanda
Summary: I told you she was real.


**A/N: This one's dedicated to the lovely **_begumfarah99_** for being my very first reviewer. This one's for you!**

**Disclaimer: Yet again, I own nothing. If I did, do you think I would be in I thought not.**

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He sat on the cold stone floor. His back was against the wall and he had a far away look in his eye. His pencil was poised, ready to make the masterpiece that he long awaited for. His hands were itching to work their magic. There was one tiny problem though. He lost his muse… again.

It was hard being an artist. It was even more difficult when you lose your muse. He had to focus, yet relax. He needed to do was grasp his muse, yet set it free. Yes. It was indeed difficult to be Dean Thomas.

Dean knew that today was _the_ day. The day when he would finally make his masterpiece. But he couldn't. He didn't know why. He just couldn't.

"Stupid muse." He murmured hitting his head lightly on the wall he leaned against. "Stupid." He repeated the action. "Stupid." And once more.

"Who's stupid?" a voice came from behind him.

"AAAAAHHHH!" Needless to say, Dean was startled. He flailed his arms in the air causing him to throw his sketch book and pencil flying in the air. "You. Scared. Me." He gasped in between breaths. He gripped his chest trying to slow down his heartbeat which was going in an alarming speed.

"Sorry." She apologized as she knelt and gathered some of Dean's art.

"It's fine. I guess I'm just not myself today." He said collecting the sheets of parchment scattered everywhere.

"So, what are you doing?" she asked handing him his drawings.

"Oh, just looking for my muse." He took the art from her and fixed it in a neat pile.

"You lost your muse…" she paused. "Again?"

"I do not lose her that often!" he said defensively as he lined up the parchment a little too roughly.

"Yes you do." She laughed as she sat down next to him on the stone floor. "I see you here almost everyday, 'looking for your muse'." She nudged. "If you lose it so often why won't you just get yourself a new one?" she suggested.

"I can't just replace her you know! She's not some thing you just cast aside when you've grown tired of it. She's been with me through thick and thin. Sure, sometimes, she may take a little more time than necessary in choosing her next form. But that's my muse. My fickle muse. And I know she'll come back to me. I just have to wait." He explained with passion.

She felt a smile tug at her lips. His dedication was truly amazing. "If you put it that way, I suppose not." She said looking at him. "You make it sound like it's real." She smiled.

"She is." He replied simply picking up on of his artworks, one of his personal favorites. "She's as real as it come. Right now, she's taking her time in choosing her next form." He said handing her his art.

"But isn't it hard? I mean, it… she" she changed her use of pronoun. "She always changes forms. Isn't it hard for you?" she asked interestedly as she took the artwork from his hands.

"Sometimes. Yeah. But one day, when she finally chooses that one corporeal form, she'll never change again. And she'll be with me forever because I'll never let her go." He watched her look at his art in awe.

She marveled at the beauty of his art. "You love her." She changed her use of pronoun. "Your muse I mean." She handed back the parchment to him.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Every artist loves his muse more than anything else in the world." He turned to look at her. "Even more than himself. I wouldn't be able to live without her."

"Oh." She sighed. She took a sheet of parchment from the bottom of the pile. The next thing you knew, she had her eyebrows knotted and she was turning the paper in different angles. "So, has your muse taken her form yet?" she asked.

Dean laughed as he gently turned the parchment so that it was in the right angle. She smiled sheepishly as she stared at the sheet before her. Her mouth was slightly agape. It was Hogwarts. Every detail was outlined to perfection. The shading was impeccable; it was almost as if you could feel the rays of light kissing the rooftops of the tower.

Dean watched her outline the drawing with her finger. Gracefully, her hand moved up and down, tracing the lines and curves. Then it hit him. His muse had taken its final corporeal form, and it was her. There it was before him. His muse came back to him and never would it leave him again. He wouldn't let it… her.

"Yes." He finally answered. "It just did."

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That night, Dean Thomas finally created his masterpiece. It was his muse. He put into paper. He made real his love for his muse.

That same night, Ginny Weasley, received an owl containing art work by none other than Dean Thomas. Slowly Ginny unrolled the parchment as if it were as delicate as lace. There she found his masterpiece. It was her. It was his love for her. She traced the detail with her finger in awe. It was the most beautiful thing she ever saw. Noticing that a note that came with the gift, she carefully laid the art on the table and picked up the note.

A smile crept on her lips as she read the note.

_I told you she was real. –Dean_

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_A/N: There you go! I hope ya'll enjoyed that. I came up with it just today. I was scribbling at the back my little notebook in school this morning. I hope it was all worth it. LOL! So please review. Click that little button and tell me watcha think. Okie?_

the sillylittlepanda +


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